The Paperless Office
by Bil
Summary: Oneshot. "Do you ever feel like you slipped down a wormhole when you weren't looking and accidentally swapped places with a schoolteacher?" John&Elizabeth friendship.


**The Paperless Office  
><strong>by Bil!

K+ - Humour, General – John, Elizabeth – Oneshot

Summary: "Do you ever feel like you slipped down a wormhole when you weren't looking and accidentally swapped places with a schoolteacher?" John& Elizabeth friendship.

Season: late 2, early 3. Prior to _McKay and Mrs Miller_.

Spoilers: None. Well, extremely minor for _The Intruder_.

Disclaimer: It is not my fault they have taken up residence in my head.

A/N: After I came up with the NOGLB acronym (it's something I use in my notes, which is a sad indication of just how often I use the phrase...) I just had to write a fic to explain it to the rest of the world. Thus, fuzzies :)

* * *

><p>"And don't forget that several of you have mission reports still outstanding," Elizabeth concluded the meeting, her eyes resting pointedly on Rodney and John.<p>

Teyla looked smug and John pulled a face at her across the briefing room table. Goody two-shoes. She smiled back serenely.

"I mean it, gentlemen," Elizabeth said sternly. "I want those reports by the end of the day or you will spend tomorrow morning sitting in my office so that I can make _sure_ you get them done."

"Do you ever feel like you slipped down a wormhole when you weren't looking and accidentally swapped places with a schoolteacher?" John asked with a grin as he fell into step with Elizabeth after the meeting had broken up.

"Daily," she said immediately. "Usually because of you or Rodney."

"To be fair," he defended himself, following her into her office, "I _have_ written the report. It's that stupid IOA form I'm having trouble with. I mean, do they think we've got nothing better to do than sit around filling out stacks of paperwork or something? If they had their way we'd only be able to go on one mission a year and we'd spend the other fifty-one weeks trying to keep up with the paperwork for it!"

She smiled as she sat down. "I suppose that would be one way of keeping you out of trouble."

"Getting me into _more_ trouble," he corrected as he flopped into a chair.

She chuckled, well aware of his propensity for making mischief when he was bored, then sighed and said, "At least you get to go on the mission first."

True. He didn't envy Elizabeth her job at _all_.

"I really do need that report today, though, John. I've got the fortnightly review to finish tomorrow."

"Yeah, I know." She looked at him. "Okay, I'll try. But no promises. If it comes to the point where I have to choose between throwing me or the computer out the window I'm gonna have to go with the computer."

"I tell you what," she said, "bring it to dinner and we'll see if two heads really are better than one."

"Really?" She nodded. "You're the best," he said gratefully.

"It's a date, then. Now go and do some work; I won't help you if you spend the afternoon hanging around in my office." He laughed and stood up. "And if you see Rodney, tell him I wasn't kidding about standing over him and making him do his."

John grinned. "Can I _not_ tell him? I could sell tickets!"

She smiled in spite of herself and rolled her eyes. "Go!" she ordered. "I'll see you at dinner."

* * *

><p>John spent the intervening time between the meeting and dinner busily dealing with personnel issues (i.e. a group of marines decided to have a brawl in the messhall because someone insulted someone's mother and he had to knock some heads together, yell a lot, and let them cool their heels in lockup for a bit). This was a pity because it meant he didn't manage to have another go at his paperwork before dinner and it wasn't exactly in a condition he wanted Elizabeth to see it, so he really had meant to try fix it up a bit. On the other hand, he was already late and Elizabeth knew him. She'd probably just roll her eyes again.<p>

She was, of course, already waiting for him when he got to the messhall (now cleaned up after the fight), sitting at a corner table and frowning over a tablet computer. When he entered she looked up and he waved a greeting before tucking his own computer under his arm and picking up a tray, looking over the possibilities for dinner.

"Sorry I'm late," he said, dropping down into the chair opposite her and shoving his computer aside to make room for his tray.

She looked up from her tablet and smiled at him. "That's all right. How're your marines?"

"Duly chastened." He shrugged. "Well, three weeks on _Daedalus_ with nothing to do is enough to drive anyone stir crazy. Plus now I can just hand them off to Ronon for extra training and they'll be so exhausted for the rest of their stay they won't cause any more trouble."

She laughed. "Sounds good."

Picking up his fork, he investigated his dinner. "How's the mystery meat tonight?"

"Very mysterious. I'd eat it quickly. The potatoes are good, though."

"Hard to ruin a good potato. These the ones the Athosians tried growing?"

"Mmhmm," she said through a mouthful of food. She swallowed. "Yes. The experiment seems to have been a success."

"Good to hear. Three weeks on the _Daedalus_ isn't really any better for potatoes than it is for marines. And I don't care what Holling says, yat tubers just aren't the same."

"I'd have to agree with you there. But we're not here to talk about potatoes."

"We're not?"

"No."

"You sure?"

She smiled, the it's-only-because-I-have-excellent-self-control-that-I'm-not-hitting-you smile that John tended to earn a lot from both her and Teyla. "Yes, John."

He surrendered with a reluctant huff that turned her smile to simple amusement.

"All right," she said, "what have you got?"

He jabbed the power button on his computer with the butt of his fork and made headway into his dinner while it powered up. After loading the first page of the IOA form he handed it over. Her eyes flickered across the first line and froze. Then, eyebrows rising, she glanced over the rest of the page. Then she looked up at John, eyes twinkling. "Can I assume that every other page is like this one?" He shrugged and she bit her lip to try and contain her smile. "You really weren't feeling very obliging, were you?"

"It's the IOA," he excused himself.

"Unfortunately, they're the ones who pay our salaries and, more importantly, the ones who pay the money that keeps Atlantis running. We need to humour them, John."

"I know, I know. It's just..."

A grin kicked up the corner of her mouth. "I do understand, John. You wouldn't believe the number of swearwords I've had to delete when filling out some of these forms."

"Well, there you go, then," he said, relaxing back into his chair and feeling completely vindicated. If _Elizabeth_ got annoyed then John didn't stand a chance.

"Still... I can't quite see them accepting this in the spirit it was intended." She looked down at the tablet and bit down on a smile. "Actually, if you sent this in I don't think you'd have a job for much longer."

"C'mon, you'd back me up. Right?"

"I have some leeway when it comes to picking and choosing my people – but I don't think I have _this_ much leeway."

* * *

><p>PAGE ONE: MISSION SUMMARY<p>

Commander of mission: _me_

Participants in mission: _my team_

Reason for mission: _NOGLB_

Outcome of mission: _NOGLB_

Summary of mission: _same old, same old: Lorne got in trouble, we rescued him, we all lived happily ever after (until next time)_

Outstanding issues from mission: _a new lot of people hate us_

Possible negative impacts on Atlantis's mission statement: _they really want to poke pointy sticks in our sensitive spots_

Positive outcomes: _no one died and this time it wasn't even McKay's fault_

Costs of mission: _my oldest and most comfortable pair of boots, dammit. Also, Abrahams lost his cap_

Lessons that can be learned from this mission:_ Lorne's team gets in just as much trouble as mine and he _doesn't_ always have to save my ass, no matter what he claims, since it's obviously the other way round_

Potential negative impacts for Earth: _these people don't even have muskets. They're not a threat_

Potential for new technology: _what did I just say?_

Potential for new alliances: _they hate us and their technology sucks. So no._

Any other important information the IOA should be aware of: _you all suck_

* * *

><p>Actually, John thought the whole form was a very pithy and erudite commentary on the existential struggle between man and paperwork as embodied in the dreaded committee...<p>

Elizabeth smiled at him indulgently when he advanced this impressive philosophical theory but seemed remarkably unconvinced by his argument. He gave up and looked sheepish. "Yeah, well, you can see why I need help."

"You certainly need help," she said with a laugh.

"Hey!"

She cast her eyes over the screen again. "Most of it is self-explanatory, but what is N-O-G-L-B?"

"Noggle-bee," he corrected. She looked at him. "You know, No One Gets Left Behind. Or, in that second one, no one _got_ left behind."

"Noggle-bee," she repeated, rolling the word thoughtfully around her mouth.

"Yeah. Well, it's like the first rule around here so I figured it deserved its own word."

"It has a sort of awkward charm," she agreed with a smile.

He grinned back. "Okay, so it doesn't quite roll off the tongue. But I like it anyway."

"So do I. Unfortunately, I'm not sure the IOA would agree with us, so I think we might need to re-do this form of yours."

"It might be worth it just to see their faces," John said wistfully, not eager to do paperwork and savouring the idea of their reactions.

"Sadly neither of us would be in a position to see their faces," Elizabeth said dryly. "I'm afraid we'd get all of the fallout with none of the reward."

He sighed and straightened up. "I guess you're right. You mean I can't keep any of it? I was quite proud of that last point on page one."

She laughed. " 'You all suck'? Are you _trying_ to get yourself fired?"

"It _is_ important," he insisted. "And obviously they haven't figured it out yet or they wouldn't keep sending us these stupid forms to fill out. So I'm doing them a favour, really. It's practically my _duty_ to tell them."

"I remember," she said reminiscently, "you telling me once that you never expected to make it above captain. I would just like to say that this doesn't surprise me."

He pulled a face at her. "Are we gonna sit around all evening insulting me or are we going to do something?"

"I'm sorry, I thought insulting you _was_ doing something."

He glowered at her, but Elizabeth could look even more innocent than Teyla. "You know what I mean."

"I do," she acknowledged. "Just remember that this isn't my report and I'm not obliged to have any hand in it."

"But you promised! C'mon, Elizabeth, you don't want to see me out of a job, do you?"

"Fine. But only because I don't want the bother of having to train up somebody new."

"Hah, I knew you liked me."

"Watch it, Colonel, you're not irreplaceable."

"Oh yeah? And where are you going to find another military officer as charming and helpful as me?"

"I could just promote Lorne. That would save a lot of trouble all round."

"Hey!"

"He even does his own paperwork."

"Hey, I do my paperwork!" She raised an eyebrow. "Eventually, anyway. Does that mean you're not going to help me?"

She sighed and smiled. "All right, John. I'll help. But only because changing my second in command would involve even more paperwork."

John just grinned and pulled his chair around so he could see the computer. "You like me, really."

"Ask me again in the morning."

As it turned out, the woman was a form-filling fiend: even IOA inanities trembled at her approach. Stupid questions became bearable, confusingly-worded requests miraculously started making sense, and the most difficult-to-describe situations could be pared down to a few short sentences. In fact, they got through John's mission forms so quickly that he cajoled her into helping him with his requisitions forms that were due next week.

He hated requisitions forms. Why couldn't he just say 'this is how many boots we need' and have them send a crateload? But no, he had to account for every pair of boots that needed replacing. There was, for example, a spreadsheet with two columns, one for the number of boots (or pens, or whatever the particular form was for) and one for the reason they'd been retired from service. MSN, for example, was the code for lost on a mission. Such as the mission with the Mother Earth worshippers (or rather the Mother M4X-699 worshippers) who believed that people with boots were evil because they were deliberately cutting themselves off from contact with the earth beneath them. So John's team had had their boots stripped off them and gone around wincing the whole time on that planet. They never did get their boots back.

Other codes included GWT (general wear and tear), LST (lost), and ROB (stolen), which were fine. He could handle those ones. But what code could you possibly use for 'me and Ronon dropped half of the pair over the side of the balcony when we were playing monkey in the middle with Rodney's boots'? (And boy had Rodney been pissed at that one; he hadn't spoken to them for the rest of the day. Which wasn't entirely a punishment.)

Elizabeth suggested they create a new code, JSC, for John Sheppard Chaos. "It would probably cover every unusual reason we ever come across," she said.

John pulled a face at her but only made her laugh. "AMF," he countered. "All McKay's Fault. RDI, Ronon Did It." She laughed again. "TMD, Teyla Made me Do it."

"CJF," she countered: "Completely John's Fault."

"It's never my fault!" he protested. She opened her mouth. "Okay, okay, don't quote me all the examples of the times it was my fault just to prove me wrong. Geez, leave a guy a _few_ illusions, can't you?"

"Delusions, you mean."

"Okay, now you're just being mean."

"Always."

"I could just quit, you know. Say 'that's it, had enough' and leave for somewhere where my boss _isn't_ mean to me all the time."

Elizabeth didn't even dignify this an answer, she just snorted in complete disbelief. John had to admit she was right. Silently. Not that it mattered, since she knew anyway.

They sped through the last of the requisitions forms and finished up with a sigh of relief. "Next time," Elizabeth warned, "you're doing these all on your own."

"Does that mean you're not going to replace me?"

She chuckled and shook her head. "No, John. Not yet, anyway."

"Cool. 'Cause that would suck."

"I suppose I would miss you a little bit," she admitted reluctantly.

"Come on, you'd be lost without me! Who else would come up with badly-filled forms to make you laugh?"

"I'm sorry, you meant that as a _positive_ thing?"

He tried, he really did, but he just couldn't keep a straight face. "Admit it, you need me."

"Like I need a Wraith attack. Do you realise how much time I've wasted helping you out with these forms?"

"It hasn't been that long, it's only—" He looked at his watch. "Oh. Hey, what do you mean, 'wasted'? Time with me is never wasted!"

"Careful, John, you'll end up sounding like Rodney."

He protested loudly, making her laugh, but her words did penetrate. "Elizabeth... You didn't mind, did you? Doing all this?"

The smile still hovering on her lips suggested she would continue teasing him, but she took pity on him. "If I minded, I wouldn't have stayed."

He relaxed. "Cool."

She pursed her lips, hesitating, then said, "John... Just so you know. The first time I knew for sure that I'd done the right thing in bringing you along on this Expedition was when we'd been here less than a day and you did your... noggle-bee for the first time."

He smiled and shrugged. "The first time I knew for sure I'd done the right thing in coming was when you let me."

Her return smile lit up her face. She stood and patted his shoulder. "Come on, Mr Noggle-bee. Let's see what movie's showing tonight."

_fin_


End file.
